


Prompt #15: "Can I have this dance?"

by Xylianna



Series: Xy's 100 Ways Challenge [39]
Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: Dancing, F/F, Fluff, background phedre/joscelin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 12:25:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19701334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xylianna/pseuds/Xylianna
Summary: Phèdre attends a Royal Fête and encounters someone by chance - or by fate - who will grow to be nearly as large a presence in her life as in her heart.





	Prompt #15: "Can I have this dance?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aliatori](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliatori/gifts).



> My imagining the first meeting of Phèdre and Nicola. Unbeta'd, and my thanks to Ali for giving me a wlw prompt on a day I needed one <3

I smoothed my umber skirts with a nervousness I hadn’t felt since I was a younger woman. This was far from my first royal function, but it was one of the only I’d attended under the auspices of my newly granted title. _Comtesse de Montrève_. How dramatically my fortunes had changed over the years. No longer a girl sold into Her service, nor a courtesan-spy gathering intel for my lord. No, I was my own mistress now.

Save for those ephemeral, coveted moments in which I was decidedly _not_.

Ignoring the familiar fluttering such thoughts always gave me, I smiled and began to move through the crowded ballroom. I knew my bistre eyes would appear wide and awestruck; it was my hope that the guise of simple country lady would relieve the assembled Peerage of the disquiet most felt when seeing the blood-red fleck in my eye.

I met the piercing violet gaze of Queen Ysandre de la Courcel and offered her a more genuine smile than I essayed towards others. While a Comtesse was still a good distance below a Queen in rank, she and I shared an especial bond born of my aid in securing her throne the previous season. It was more so out of friendship for her than any other reason that I attended these state events. Had I my own way, I’d be out at the Siolavese estate I had inherited from my late lord, enjoying some much needed rest after all the past year’s adventures. 

My thoughts went to Joscelin, my love, my protector. I spied him circumnavigating the perimeter of the ballroom. He, unlike all others, was allowed to bear arms in the presence of Her Majesty, and betimes as he turned the light would catch on the paired daggers sheathed at his hips, on the pommel of the broadsword that rose over his shoulder. Joscelin enjoyed such gatherings even less than I, certain it was a matter of time before the next threat to our Queen — or to me — would reveal itself. But I knew he did take some pleasure in being able to fulfill his sworn role in life, and I was glad of it.

“Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève,” a melodic contralto sounded so close to my ear that I nearly muttered an oath at my own inattentiveness. I detected the hint of Aragonia in her speech, and was therefore unsurprised when I turned to find myself pinioned by the keen violet visage of Nicola L’Envers y Aragon.

“My lady,” I murmured, spreading my rich brown skirts in a low curtsey which I held just a touch too long, my gaze seeking hers from behind the dusky veil of my eyelashes.

I saw an answering spark in her own, and new I’d guessed aright: she was one of mine.

One of Kushiel’s.

“Can I have this dance?” I asked a touch breathlessly, and as if the gods themselves smiled upon my boldness I heard a sound like the beating of wings eclipse the pounding of my own heart.

“If you wish it.” Nicola’s insouciant response and indolently quirked lips fanned flames from the ember of my desire. I perceived this was not a patron who would wish me to put on airs of modesty, no — she would prefer forthrightness and wit to demureness and whispers.

“I do,” I said, reaching out to clasp her hands as I stepped so closely our skirts crinkled together and our chests nearly touched.

Interest darkened those cunning lavender eyes and Nicola wrapped an arm around me, bringing me against her body as the musicians struck up a languid tune. She was taller than me, just enough so that I could rest my head on her shoulder without bending my neck terribly much, and so I did, but with my face turned towards her so that I might be heard if I spoke.

“I’ve been hoping to meet you,” she admitted, and I smiled.

“Mayhap this is why Ysandre keeps throwing fêtes,” I teased. “With us both on the guest list, it was only a matter of time until our paths crossed.”

She spun me away from her, and I laughed in delight. When I was drawn close once more, this time I met her eyes directly and was rewarded by her fingers tightening around mine, the sharp edges of her nails digging into my skin in such a way that turned my insides to molten fire.

“Perhaps you’re right,” she purred softly in my ear, lush lips brushing the lobe sensuously only to be followed by nipping teeth. Elua, if she hadn’t been holding me, I may have folded to my knees right there, for I longed to be at her feet. 

I was losing myself to the haze of my own nature, and couldn’t muster up a verbal reply. Turning my head, I pressed a needy kiss to her jawline. I could feel her skin flush warm beneath my lips and was heartened that I wasn’t the only one so affected.

The song came to an end and we parted as expected, to offer our applause to those performing. When the next began, Nicola took my hand in hers again, her other sliding from the base of my spine to the nape of my neck. Had I been nude, she would have accurately traced the limned lines of my marque. I trembled just imagining it, and blushed when I saw her knowing smile.

We spoke no further — what words were needed now? As we turned and stepped in proper sequence, that wonderful hand curled from my neck into the hair at the base of my skull. I knew she was disturbing the hairstyle carefully coiffed earlier that day, and I cared not — she could yank out all the pins right there and command me to crawl after them in my finery, and I would thank her for it before gathering them one at a time in my teeth and depositing them into her satin-skinned hand with grateful kisses.

I was lost in a kaleidoscope of swishing skirts and smiling lips, the sprightly music of the ensemble nothing to the sighing breaths and sultry chuckles Nicola made in response to what was crossing over my face as we danced. The hand at my hair patted fondly before scratching a path down the column of my neck, pausing to curl briefly over my throat which set a hot surge of urgency thrumming along my veins. Gods, I needed this. Even more important to the divine edict I, as all D’Angelines, followed: I _wanted_ this.

This time when the music stopped, Nicola stepped away with finality telegraphed by her body language. With a decisive nod and a knowing smirk flirting at the corners of her mouth, she said only, “I’ll have a contract drawn up and sent for your review.” And then she walked away, lost almost immediately in the mass of colorfully bedecked nobles. I let out my breath raggedly, pressing one shaking hand to my thundering heart.

Would it be a day? A week? How long would she bid me wait?

No matter. As it was taught to me long ago, ‘There is no fulfillment that is not made sweeter for the prolonging of desire’.

Too, the uncertainty of the timing would only add to my arousal. What would she desire, when we did meet? It didn’t take an _anguisette’s_ instincts to know she wasn’t the type to simply delight in beating me, in search of my _signale_. I expected something rather more creative than that, and I’d enjoy imagining various scenarios until I received her missive.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos bring me _joie_. <3


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